


Don't Look Away

by smolder



Category: Atlantis: The Lost Empire (2001), Beauty and the Beast (1991), Tarzan (1999)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Families of Choice, Gen, Gender Roles, M/M, Multi, Polyfidelity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-20
Updated: 2014-02-22
Packaged: 2018-01-13 03:43:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1211329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smolder/pseuds/smolder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another prompt based story. Starts as a Belle/Beast tale (with a slight twist) but then will continue to crossover with both Tarzan and Atlantis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Part One

**Author's Note:**

> The original prompt was: _Belle/Milo/Jane, poly relationship. Sex not necessary, but fluffy cuteness as they live together in nerdish booky glory. Bonus points (are not necessary), but if they manage to get their canon significant others ("Adam", Kida and Tarzan), and form a three couple poly relationship where they all live in a big house together._
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing. “Beauty and the Beast” was originally a fairy tale by Jeanne-Marie Le Prince de Beaumont. But, I'm afraid to say, the version in my brain is thoroughly Disney. (More disclaimers in coming chapters! Why, the things to look forward to.)  
> A/N 1: With permission from the prompter I gender-flipped “Adam.” So, this story will eventually feature a poly relationship, but it will start with F/F. I'm telling you all now to avoid any sort of problems.  
> A/N2: Reviews are Good. This has been a subtle hint from the author - Please return to your regularly scheduled reading.

 Part One  
  
  
It was never surprising knowledge to her – but then, she had realized her own preferences quite early.   
  
She also realized quite early the need to keep it deep inside; these thoughts, these urges, these feelings – they were not the sort of thing to be spoken of. She knew this without having to ask, knew it just by observing, by seeing that it was not something that everyone else did, was _different_.  
  
And it was not even that she thought her Father would not accept her – Belle knew, being an inventor, her Father was an oddity completely of himself and the he loved her dearly, would love her no matter what. But why would she even bring this into the open – into the light of day and the taunts of the towns people who already ridiculed them, when there was no chance for happiness down this path anyway? No, it was better to not tell, to let everyone thing she was a normal girl.  
  
When she was younger Belle had actually thought it would be _easy_ to keep this facet of herself secret – had even foolishly thought that this hidden bit of her was a gift in some way, made her special. And it was only as she grew that the difference started to chafe under the facade she was forced to keep, that the lie of it would press against the inside of her chest – wanting to burst out.   
  
Because she was different, she _was_. And not only because she much rather get lost in a book then play with dolls or gossip – she would never be like those other girls for a _very_ different reason. ( _Had to bite her lip when they spoke of young men and marriage because it was something she knew she would never be a part of_.)   
  
And Belle became rather resigned to the fact; the day-to-day of brushing off Gaston's pressing advances and, on rare occasion, allowing herself the luxury of secretly letting her eyes trail along the form of one of the women who might enter the book shop.  
  
But time made everything fester; it felt like wearing clothes that no longer fit, only this was no mere garments but _herself_ – and she could not simply take off the skin that she woke up wearing every day and exchange it for something that didn't constrict every movement she made, every _choice_. That didn't make her close her eyes and tamp down the urge to scream when she opened them again and it was morning where she must play out the very same day, yet again. With only her books to offer respite, a place in which she could escape.  
  
And when something different _does_ happen, when Phillipe returns without her Father, when their dear horse faithfully takes her to him – and it is to a dreary castle that they ride...well, she feels absolutely terrible for wishing for anything but the life she previously had.  
  
Because this day is certainly _not_ the same as the others. Is different, an adventure – like she has dreamed of; but not all adventures were good. And this dream felt very much like the beginning of a nightmare.  
  
In fact, this whole scenario is dream-like, her father imprisoned by that creature – that Beast. It is almost the most natural thing in the world for Belle to make the offer, give herself as trade for her Father's life.   
  
The Beast watches her sharply, looking down upon her; such a distracting cacophony of fur, claws, teeth, and horn that she doesn't quite know where to safely gaze without causing offense. But it is in the moment that their eyes lock – _such human eyes_ \- that it moves from being a terrible dream to a terrible reality, that it all slams into her with such force that Belle has to bite the inside of her cheek so as not to stumble backwards, clutch her hands together so they do not shake.  
  
 _But_...she also does not look away, does not break eye contact.  
  
And when the creature agrees, Belle knows for certain that nothing in her life will ever be the same again.


	2. Prologue: Parts Two & Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing. “Beauty and the Beast” was originally a fairy tale by Jeanne-Marie Le Prince de Beaumont. But, I'm afraid to say, the version in my brain is thoroughly Disney.  
> A/N 1: With permission from the prompter I gender-flipped “Adam.” So, this story will eventually feature a poly relationship, but it will start with F/F. I'm telling you all now to avoid any sort of problems.  
> A/N2: Reviews are Good. This has been a subtle hint from the author - Please return to your regularly scheduled reading.

Part Two   
  
  
Her sense of stark reality soon becomes juxtaposed by the magic of this place.   
  
And Belle means this in the most literal of senses, because _figuratively_ the castle remains heavy with dreariness. But somehow, the inhabitants themselves are all cursed, members of the household staff everything from clocks to candlesticks.   
  
…. _talking_ clocks and candlesticks that is.  
  
It quite startles her at first – for although Belle has had her head in a book most of her life, she is a child of an inventor, has been taught _science_ – not magic – as the true base blocks of this world.   
  
But this sort of thinking falls apart in the face of them, because she cannot look at that darling little Chip or dear Ms. Potts and state that they are not _real_ , that they are hallucinations or figments of her imagination. ( _For starters it would be terribly rude._ )  
  
It was much easier to turn down the Beast's “offer”( _which is much more an order_ ) to dine – easier to argue back (even when the creature yells – such a roar with it's large, broad, body) after the stressful time she has had.  
  
 _Is this what the rest of her life is to be?_ No dinner – and waiting until a lovely bedroom door is slammed shut with the force to shake the corridor, and she is left alone in her well furnished jail cell, to curl upon her bed and cry? The thought is not a heartening one.  
  
But not all of her brand new acquaintances wish for her to be without, most are very welcoming - and rather willing to give her sustenance even against their _Mistress'_ orders. And that – that casual revelation that the Beast is _female_ \- is as much of shock to Belle as the talking household items. Because truly, to her chagrin ( _although she cannot find it in herself to be overly chastened, when she has had such extraordinary happenings piled upon her this day_ ) she had thought of her captor as not having a gender of any sort.  
  
Which is silly of course, even animals have a sex - and the Beast has clearly shown itself to be a thinking creature, if one prone to moods of anger.   
  
And now that she _knows_ that the Beast is female and not male, Belle feels a part of herself, deep inside, relax ( _just a bit_ ). She is quite aware that this reaction is not truly logical ( _but is there any room for logic in this situation?_ ): the creature imprisoned her Father, is now keeping her captured – it shouldn't matter what sort of gender it is.  
  
But after years of fighting off unwanted advances from Gaston, Belle's discomfort of men had grown quite high ( _always feeling now when their eyes alighted upon her that they wanted something from her - something she could not give them_ ). She has become very aware of how men often view women in her small town ( _and how small, how helpless, she can feel against their larger bulk when cornered_ ).   
  
And in her personal experience, women usually did not do such things - although she, herself, was evidence that _some_ women did have the sort of wants towards the same gender. But, even given the opportunity, Belle would never go about things as Gaston did. ( _She hoped Beast was not that sort to be predatory in that manner either._ )  
  
Such distracting thoughts circle her brain, causing Belle to give half an ear to Cogsworth's monologue throughout the tour. That is, until she hears the words _West Wing_ – the area which she was never to enter.   
  
However, her curiosity has come alive and even the combined attempts of the transformed clock and candle stick could not deter her. It is dark inside, paintings and furniture ripped and destroyed but her attention is caught by something else...something _glowing_.  
  
She feels _entranced_ by the beautiful rose floating upon the pedestal, under the bell jar. Belle wants desperately to see it closer, finds herself reaching out to touch - only to be terribly startled by the Beast, herself.   
  
And _oh_ \- she is angry. So, very _very angry_ ; yelling at her, _growling_ at her – and Belle knows she went where she was expressly told not to, but she does not truly understand why it has elicited this feral of a reaction.   
  
Belle has _never_ seen another being more furious; certainly never had this sort of potent rage directed upon _her_. _(Her heart is beating hard within her chest, it feels difficult to breathe.)_  
  
And the tucked away section of her mind that thought she might have a modicum of safety in this castle crumpled as her fear took root, as the very animal part of her human nature reacted to this threat before her the only way it knew how.  
  
Belle could not _fight_ – it would be absolute folly to try – so she _ran._  
  
  
  
Part Three  
  
  
She feels foolish for her rashness soon after, allowing fear such domain over her senses; mentally curses her body ceding control from her mind. Stranded and lost in the woods, with the sound of wolves fast approaching – now instead of just being frightened at being yelled at ( _although Belle had no guarantee that situation would not escalate_ ), she – and dear Phillipe as well – will most certainly be killed.  
  
Belle sees death approach, the wolf closing in, jumping at her - and she has no chance to run, as her body wishes, this time. But before teeth and claws can descend....the Beast is there.  
  
And - and - she is _fierce_ in her defense; she bats wolves away with a heavy hand tipped with claws. Roars back at the circling lupine creatures when they growl, refusing to back down.  
  
It is terrifying of course, but their is something utterly captivating by the display of wild strength. The battle is not entirely one-sided though - and the Beast has been badly harmed by the time the wolves are made to disperse.  
  
Belle doesn't even have a thought other then getting her back to the castle then - _doesn't even consider until much later that she could have used this opportunity to get far away_. Because the Beast got hurt basically putting her body between Belle and a pack of wolves, how could she possibly then not help to heal her?  
  
They talk while she helps clean her wounds – no, they _banter_. It is disarmingly fun to Belle, feels so very odd to speak so with the one she was running from only hours ago.   
  
And while securing the bandages, Belle realizes she has started to firmly think of the Beast as a _woman_ and not a _creature_. To not only know that, but to casually think in those terms. To feel _awkward_ that the only name she has to refer to her captor and rescuer as is “Beast”. It seems rather derogatory when talking to a Lady – but she also feels hesitant to turn the conversation to the others' secrets, remembers quite clear the harsh reaction when she traveled where she was not welcome ( _and those personal sort of questions might, very well, be swimming into similar waters_ ).


	3. Prologue: Parts Four & Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing. “Beauty and the Beast” was originally a fairy tale by Jeanne-Marie Le Prince de Beaumont. But, I'm afraid to say, the version in my brain is thoroughly Disney.  
> A/N 1: With permission from the prompter I gender-flipped “Adam.” So, this story will eventually feature a poly relationship, but it will start with F/F. I'm telling you all now to avoid any sort of problems. (Original prompt is on the first part.)  
> A/N2: Reviews are Good. This has been a subtle hint from the author - Please return to your regularly scheduled reading.

Part Four  
  
  
The tone to their interactions changes after that; every single conversation is not automatically _pleasant_ but things _are_ different. It is as if they are both truly trying to get along now. They know she is to stay her forever, so why should they constantly put each other through the stress of constant antagonism?  
  
And over the weeks she finds herself charmed by the personality she finds buried underneath the gruff exterior Beast initially presented. There is an awkwardness, a sadness, a secretiveness, and a wish for friendship that Belle relates to very strongly.  
  
Apparently she watches Belle as well – because she figures out the most wondrous gift to present her. A _library_. Oh, an entire library, all her own, to explore - free to pick and choose, free to get lost in for hours. ( _And free is the operative word. She grows to have such a sense of freedom in this place that is at direct odds with her actual captivity._ )  
  
Everything seems to build to one night. Beast dresses in a suit ( _she has always worn trousers since Belle arrived, which she assumed was simply logical due to her size_ ) but Belle does not see this as masculine – despite the lack of any feminine touches – never once thinks of her as anything other then a woman in this moment. Because, as so often seems to happen, her eyes catch the Beast's blue ones and she just sees _her_ – the fur, claws, horns, and suit are part of it all, of course but there is _something else_. Something beyond all of that that Belle feels she has _almost_ reached, that she thinks she can just _almost_ touch.  
  
And Belle has never truly thought much on her own appearance - and those times that she has pondered it at any length, she thought of her perceived physical attractiveness as a truly negative thing. Something that brought the sort of attention upon her that she shied away from.  
  
But now - oh _now_ , she feels truly beautiful and it _is_ a good thing, something that warms her slowly from the inside out. She just cannot help it - the fine golden gown, the grand brightly lit ballroom, the romantic music, the Beast dancing with her ( _hands so very gentle, as if she is a china doll that will break if she is held more firmly_ ). And her partner's size is not overwhelming her, it is comforting – she has seen Beast's awesome strength but she also knows the extreme care she employs every time she touches her.  
  
And those eyes - those human eyes amidst that face full of fur - are giving her such a _look_. The sort of look Belle has never truly dared let herself hope she would receive from someone of her same sex. It is more than that though, more than the fact this person gazing upon her so is a woman. She does not think herself so fickle, that her heart would beat so quickly for just _any_ of the "fairer sex".  
  
Because she has become _fascinated_ by the Beast in the short time together, the mystery surrounding the castle and it's inhabitants that had sparked her curiosity has slipped away - along with her fear of her housemate being so much bigger. Instead she is too caught up in the joy of their banter, the fun they are able to have together playing like children in the snow. Belle finds herself no longer filled with a sense of never ending fruitless frustration when she awakes, ( _as happened so often in the village_ ) instead she is smiling as the sun touches her face, welcoming the day, wondering when they will "just happen" to run into each other in the vast building.   
  
She feels as if she is tumbling head over heels down a great hill, seems like a Lady in one of the romance novels she has guiltily enjoyed; feels her face burn and her heart beat faster as she cuddles closer during the next twirl of their dance.  
  
  
  
Part Five  
  
  
The only thing that mars her happiness in this moment are thoughts of her Farther that creep into her mind. She has tried hard not to think about him too much, knowing how the emotion will pull her down. But feeling so at ease now, Belle worries about him – they have been all each other had, in a rather unwelcoming world, for so long.  
  
It troubles her that he would _logically_ believe her to be ill treated, would naturally come to that conclusion from his own imprisonment at the castle. Would probably, the rest of his life, hold the heavy guilt in his heart of having his only daughter ( _his only family_ ) take his place in such wretched circumstances.  
  
Beast notices this change in mood, asks what is troubling her so, and when she tells her, gifts Belle with the opportunity to view her Father through the mirror in the West Wing ( _yet another enchanted item – and Belle is somehow not too surprised by this, has gotten a bit used to thinking of this place as outside the purview of scientific reasoning_.)  
  
When she sees him within the magic mirror though - lost and sick in the forest – she is horrified. Belle had thought she would simply view their cottage within the glass, see him puttering away at another invention. Some small domestic scene that, while it might make her homesick, would not make her feel so very _helpless_.  
  
But then – then she _isn't_ helpless anymore, isn't stuck here, bound by her word. Because looking down upon her expression of sorrow, Beast gives Belle another gift. _Her freedom._  
  
And how can saying those words, telling her she can _leave_ the castle ( _leave her_ ), seem so much like another phrase all together. Why is there both such tenderness - and such resignation - that she feels her heart will break in Beast's voice ( _in her blue blue eyes_ ) when she says Belle can go?  
  
But Belle also knows she must take this opportunity given to her, must _save_ her Father. To _actually leave_ though – oh, to actually _go_ tore at something within her so harshly she thinks Beast, and the rest of the transformed staff, must hear it as well.  
  
But there is hardly another choice, and so ( _with the smaller magic mirror given to her in her saddlebag_ ) she rides swiftly into the forest.  
  
 _Away_ from the castle, _away_ from the Beast.  
  
And as Phillipe's hooves create distance, Belle feels a growing chasm inside as well, feels as if she might have just left her heart behind; beating hopefully in fur covered, claw tipped, hands.


End file.
